


april morning before the storm

by Kuroeia (Empatheia)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-27
Updated: 2009-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia
Summary: First impressions are important.
Relationships: Lan Fan/Ling Yao
Kudos: 1





	april morning before the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FFN. Requested by cataclysmatic on LiveJournal, drabble post 2009/09/28. 
> 
> Prompt: damages

The first time she meets the prince she is destined to serve, she has just been soundly trounced by her last sparring opponent at the end of the day. She is exhausted, red-faced, bruised and bleeding, and shiny with sweat. Her skin smells like the bottom of the laundry heap.

When she staggers off the mats, he is in the way, and she nearly runs him down. She looks up to glare at him, realizes who he is, and feels the quiet sinking of despair when she realizes what sort of impression she must be making.

"Hello, Lan Fan," he says, and hands her a towel. "You would have won that one if you hadn't had to fight three battles before facing him when he'd only had one."

"There is no fairness in battle," she replies automatically, then blushes when she realizes that he's called her by name, and seems to have been watching her for some time. "I apologize for my... presentation at the moment, your highness."

He grins and claps her on the shoulder. "Ling," he corrects her. "My name is Ling. Please use it. And please, don't apologize. You're the first girl I've met who doesn't care if her nails break. You're not even wearing any makeup. I didn't know that was allowed. I think you're prettier than the rest of them, anyway."

He is fourteen. She is twelve. Even so, there is a shrewd cunning behind his eyes which she knows is echoed in her own; neither royalty nor warriors can afford to be naive.

"Thank you, my lord," she says formally, but smiles as she says it.

X

**Author's Note:**

> Work is intentionally this length, complete, and will not be updated.


End file.
